et in
our places by the straight trees that swayed together and let sunshine
through here and there like a single golden leaf that flickered down,
vanishing in the cool shade.

The grove was so large that the great family looked far smaller than it
had in the open field; there was a thick growth of dark pines and firs
with an occasional maple or oak that gave a gleam of color like a bright
window in the great roof. On three sides we could see the water, shining
behind the tree-trunks, and feel the cool salt breeze that began to come
up with the tide just as the day reached its highest point of heat. We
could see the green sunlit field we had just crossed as if we looked
out at it from a dark room, and the old house and its lilacs standing
placidly in the sun, and the great barn with a stockade of carriages
from which two or three care-taking men who had lingered were coming
across the field together. Mrs. Todd had taken off her warm gloves and
looked the picture of content.

"There!" she exclaimed. "I've always meant to have you see this place,
but I never looked for such a beautiful opportunity--weather an'
occasion both made to match. Yes, it suits me: I don't ask no more. I
want to know if you saw mother walkin' at the head! It choked me right
up to see mother at the head, walkin' with the ministers," and Mrs. Todd
turned away to hide the feelings she could not instantly control.

"Who was the marshal?" I hastened to ask. "Was he an old soldier?"

"Don't he do well?" answered Mrs. Todd with satisfaction.

"He don't often have such a chance to show off his gifts," said Mrs.
Caplin, a friend from the Landing who had joined us. "That's Sant
Bowden; he always takes the lead, such days. Good for nothing else most
o' his time; trouble is, he"--

I turned with interest to hear the worst. Mrs. Caplin's tone was both
zealous and impressive.

"Stim'lates," she explained scornfully.

"No, Santin never was in the war," said Mrs. Todd with lofty
indifference. "It was a cause of real distress to him. He kep'
enlistin', and traveled far an' wide about here, an' even took the bo't
and went to Boston to volunteer; but he ain't a sound man, an' they
wouldn't have him. They say he knows all their tactics, an' can tell all
about the battle o' Waterloo well's he can Bunker Hill. I told him once
the country'd lost a great general, an' I meant it, too."

"I expect you're near right," said Mrs. Caplin, a little crestfallen and
ap